Semper Fidelis
by DarkHeartInTheSky
Summary: Balthazar only saw Castiel cry three times.


_AN: Theme song for this piece is "I'll Stay Here" by, not without coincidence, the band "Balthazar"._

888

The first time Balthazar saw Castiel was cry was the night Lucifer Fell. That, to Balthazar, had been a more terrible sight than that of the sky catching fire and Michael's ferocity, his sword crackling with all the energy of an eldest sibling. For even when he was still young, Castiel had prided himself on remaining cold and detached; ever the warrior of God he was training to be.

The ground below them had cracked open and began to suck in Lucifer's followers, eating them; they tried to grip tightly onto the ground, dug in so deep they left bloodied cracks in the earth, but they were soon ripped away—eyes turning a heinous black before they were swallowed.

Lucifer had been the last to go. Balthazar suspected it had something to do with Michael's pride. Or perhaps it was his forgiveness. All of Heaven bore witness to their final altercation, Michael giving Lucifer just one final, last chance to repent. (It had seemed to Balthazar that every time they spoke, it was always Lucifer's final, last chance). Lucifer rose his head to look Michael in the eye and he spat in Michael's face as blasphemies flew from his lips like poison. He damned Michael and all the other angels who had refused to join his plight. He damned the Father, saying "You continue to worship Him who has placed the filth above the treasure. I am gold brother, as are you, and I will not bow before shit." And he damned humanity, cursing in every language he knew and ones that did not yet exist.

He pointed to his creation, the abomination he had made out of his Father's creation, the abomination that had stirred the beginning of his end. "I can create too!" He said with pride. "Brother, look at my creation! Is it not beautiful? Is it not made in my image? Perhaps I should forsake you for such a beast and call it my brother!"

Michael asked again for Lucifer's repentance, but Lucifer had only sneered and said, "You can take your forgiveness and shove it straight up your ass. I will not seek absolution when I have done nothing wrong."

Balthazar saw Michael's heartbreak shine in his eyes, his wings furled with sorrow and fear. "I am sorry then, brother," Michael had said, "but I have my duty."

But Michael could not kill Lucifer so instead he threw him into the Pit, far down and locked him in a Cage where the fire could not touch him and he could be safe.

After Lucifer was thrown in and the black hole closed, Michael's eyes hardened and he turned to the Heavenly Host, arms spread wide, sword still flaming in his hand. "Do you see now, brothers, what becomes of the disobedient?" he screamed.

Castiel was only a breath away from Michael, still a fledgling, with wings too big for his form and a grace more powerful than he could yet control.

"Do not weep, Castiel," Michael said, "for they were disobedient and unworthy of your tears. You love our Father, do you not?"

"Of course I do!" Castiel proclaimed, offended at the implication of such a question, at the possibility that he did not love Father. "With all of my being, I love Him!"

"Then you have nothing to fear. Look back on this then, only as a reminder of what should happen should you ever stray from the path as Lucifer did."

Balthazar didn't know what Michael had expected from such a comment, but Castiel had only begun to weep harder afterwards, and had turned to hide himself in Balthazar's wings. Balthazar folded his wings over the fledgling, desperate to take this thing, still so tiny, frail and innocent and hide it away from the evils: Of Micheal's wrath, of Lucifer's legacy, of the demons that now stalked Earth and Heaven and siphoned out the grace of any angels they could get their hands on—now that Lucifer was defeated, they had ample reason for wanting revenge.

"Balthazar," Castiel had cried, "is Lucifer really gone?"

"Yes." He could not lie to Castiel. "But Michael is right. You shouldn't cry for him. He betrayed us and Father. You owe him no loyalty."

"Promise me Balthazar, promise me you'll never leave me."

It was the cry from a grieving child, one recently traumatized having had a front row seat to his brother's destruction; then having had a front row seat to the eldest brother's wrath turned to him.

There was nothing else Balthazar could say, no other option, because Castiel needed it and he meant it and he would always mean it. "Of course, Cassie," he said, tugging his wings tighter around the frail body, "you'll always have little old me."

888

The second time Balthazar saw Castiel cry, Castiel had just been given his orders to save the Righteous Man from Hell.

Castiel had come to him after his meeting with Michael and Zachariah and had asked for a comfort he had not allowed himself since he was a fledgling; before pride and archangels and war had taught him that these things were childish and foolish and he should not want them, and if he did want them, he should not reward himself with them.

Secretly, Balthazar was selfish and he wanted to hold Castiel just as much as Castiel wanted to be held. Perhaps, more. Balthazar had thousands of brothers, so many he could not even comprehend all their names or faces, but only Castiel could make him smile; and only to him did Castiel ever dare show vulnerability. He had held Castiel as a fledgling, and looked into his eyes and saw his Father's work for all that it was. Everyone had always commented and mourned on Lucifer's beauty, but Balthazar had always secretly disagreed. It was not Lucifer, he thought, but Castiel who was God's most beautiful creation. Lucifer had been beautiful in his extravagance. He had large, golden wings that reached out for hundreds of feet in both directions and he always walked with a powerful purpose saturated with God's favoritism. But Castiel was different. There was nothing spectacular about him, even now that he was grown. His wings were still too large for him, and though he walked with purpose, it was without power.

It was Castiel's plainness that made him beautiful, Balthazar thought. One would never spare Castiel a second glance, but Balthazar saw beyond the physical. His brother's heart was large, his capacity for love unbounded. That was something Lucifer never had.

And then of course they were his eyes. When Balthazar looked into Castiel's eyes, he knew love. Love was tangible, it was Castiel and when he held Castiel, he held love itself. And even when those eyes were rimming with tears, they were still beautiful because they served as a testament to Castiel's love.

So, Balthazar cried with Castiel that day; he wished he could take Castiel away and hide him somewhere where nothing unpleasant could ever come near him. Castiel was his friend, his brother, and to even think of losing him to the Pit was so horrendous, Balthazar thought he could simply die.

"I do not want you to go," Balthazar told him, holding Castiel tightly to his chest. If only he could just absorb Castiel into himself to protect him from this pain.

"I do not want to go," Castiel said between his sobs. "But I must."

Balthazar knew that. It was a direct order from Michael himself. There was nothing Castiel could do but as he was told.

Still, it didn't mean Balthazar had to like it. Who knew how long he and Castiel would be separated? They had not spent more than a day away from each other since they were both fledglings.

And then the even worst thought entered Balthazar's mind: what if this was the last time he saw Castiel? No angel had ever attempted to pierce the boundary between Heaven and Hell. Could an angel, a creature of God's love and holiness, survive the damnation and taint of demons?

Balthazar cried harder and drew Castiel closer to his chest. He wanted then to kiss Castiel. If this were to be the last time they saw each other, he wanted no words to be left unsaid.

Were words even enough to let be known all that he felt for Castiel? Balthazar knew dozens upon dozens of languages, human and angelic alike, and while he sifted through his knowledge of all of them, he found nothing that even came close.

But, Castiel was scared and crying, and it would be incredibly unfair of Balthazar to put such a burden on Castiel's shoulders now. There was no fear that his feelings were not returned—Castiel showed to Balthazar pieces of himself no one else ever got to see. And, kissing Castiel now would be too much like saying goodbye. No, Balthazar would not kiss Castiel, not here and now. He would save it for Castiel's return because Castiel would return. Balthazar forced himself to believe it with all his heart. That single belief was all he had to hold onto, his one single connection to Castiel the entire time Castiel would be gone.

"You'll be okay," Balthazar soothed, "you'll do your mission and you'll come back." The _to me_ was left unsaid; it didn't need to be said, Balthazar thought. It was heard as it hung heavy in the air.

"You'll be here when I get back," Castiel said. "I want your face to be the first thing I see when I get back."

"Of course. How many times do I have to tell you, Cassie? You will always have little old me."

888

The third time he saw Castiel cry was the worst because he had been the cause of those tears. The room had a heartbeat, the heavy silence breath, and it only seemed worse now that the confrontation with Raphael was over, Balthazar having seen how truly desperate Castiel was, and those bloody Winchesters were gone.

Anger, confusion, grief (I grieved your death, I _grieved your death!, _Castiel kept sobbing into his clavicle)—emotions Balthazar could not name swam around him and fell from the tears that cascaded down his face, dropping onto the floor.

I grieved yours, Balthazar wanted to say. He wanted to defend himself, You died first, you were dead, Raphael told me so, you were dead so I had to die too. A Paradise without your touch is no Paradise of mine.

It's not even a weak argument, though, it's nonexistent, because Castiel was not dead, he was here pressed up against Balthazar like he did when they were fledglings.

_I grieved you so much God brought you back to me._

Hell had changed Castiel. Balthazar kept his promise, he made sure he was the very first thing Castiel saw when he came back; but when Balthazar laid his first sight on Castiel in over forty years, he wasn't sure what was looking back. That spark of life always ignited in Castiel's eyes had been smothered. He bore too many scars, had been licked by too many burns. Even his wings, which had once been the beautiful, pure, glowing white of their Father's touch were now nothing more than two blackened appendages, which only hung loosely from his shoulders in shame.

He didn't smile anymore.

_What did you see, brother? What was so horrible that you cannot confide even in me?_

It was after Hell that Castiel began to slip away from him, like sand falling through his fingertips. And for every grain Balthazar managed to save, there were two he could not and they were lost to him, perhaps forever.

It of course had begun with Castiel's slow refusal to accept his orders so blindly. This, Balthazar sympathized with; Castiel breached Hell without question because had been ordered to, and something happened in Hell that Castiel could no longer go on in blissful ignorance.

Balthazar had also been quite sympathetic with Castiel's stance on the Apocalypse. He loved Earth and all its pleasures, and humanity was the creation Father had told them to love more than Him. Annihilating all of them just didn't bode well, so Balthazar stood by Castiel's side and when they punished Castiel, they punished him too.

Balthazar was a coward, though; after his reeducation he could no longer see the reason for fighting the plan his older brothers were enacting. They had had it planned for years. And would annihilation really be so bad? The humans that deserved to be with their loved ones would be, and together angels and humanity would walk side by side as equals. Balthazar no longer saw the need to fight if the end result would only end in happiness for all involved.

Castiel did not though. Castiel had continued to oppose and follow in the shadow of Dean Winchester, who strung Castiel along like a dog.

And then Castiel died. No, not died, Balthazar corrected himself, Castiel had been killed, obliterated into nothingness by Raphael because he stood by Dean Winchester. Balthazar could still remember the way his heart had crumpled when news reached him of Castiel's death. Stealing the weapons had been his last fuck you to Heaven because how could they claim themselves to be creatures of the divine and then turn on their own so mercilessly? Castiel was gone and Heaven had nothing left for him, so Balthazar had to die too.

And then news reached him of Castiel's resurrection.

But he couldn't reach out. He had betrayed Castiel. First by refusing to continue to stay by his side and then again by faking his own death. And now that he had the weapons, his companionship would only prove deadly for Castiel. So Balthazar stayed away to keep Castiel safe. It was for Castiel, he told himself, he would do anything necessary to keep Castiel safe, even if it meant he could never see him again.

But Castiel was here now. Sobbing into him, wanting to be coddled like a child, saying he missed him.

Balthazar drew Castiel closer to him, desperate for his brother's warmth; Castiel's touch was something he thought he would never get to experience again and he was selfish and wanted to relish in it and stay as they were together. Heavenly war, Raphael, Winchesters and God all be damned. If they could stay here like this forever, then they would finally be in Paradise.

888

It was his fault, Balthazar concluded. He had betrayed Castiel and left him alone, scared and vulnerable, to handle a war that was just simply too much for him. Dean Winchester had abandoned Castiel too. It had been too easy for that demon filth to crawl in and snatch Castiel away and warp him into something twisted.

And Balthazar knew that Castiel suspected him of only further betrayal. But Balthazar had seen his brother slip away and be replaced by something that would have finally done Michael proud. This imposter put the mission above all else, sacrificed anything he felt was in his way. Balthazar had tried to talk sense into Castiel, but the demon had drug Castiel past the point of reason and rescue.

"Well," he told Castiel that night in the demon's warehouse, "you'll always have little old me."

And since death was preferable to watching Castiel slip away forever, he turned his back.

888

Balthazar saw Castiel cry three times.

Once, was born of the fear of Micheal's wrath and for his brothers lost in the Pit.

Once was for himself, having to go down to the bowels Michael had once threatened to throw him into.

Once had been upon the revelation that his greatest friend was alive and had left him.

There was one time Castiel cried and Balthazar did not see. These tears were for Balthazar, not because of him.

Sunken onto the floor on his knees, he looked to the sky because he could not bear to look at the ground. His blade was still in his hand, warm and tacky and Castiel's body shook with violent tremors that could never hope to match his grief and sorrow.

"What have I done?" he whispered to the Father he longed since stopped believing was listening. An itch rose in his throat; hot tears raced down his face, his hair stuck to his skin and breathing was suddenly so hard. "What have I _done?" _


End file.
